The sand and me

The goodbye rings in my ear, it touches my heart. She left me with a few inserts in her diary (her 35 day trip into swedens wilderness area – alone, barefeet, looking, searching, experiencing everything from high to low). I am deeply touched, she shares her intimate heart with me – it makes me cry –desperately cry . The wounds open wide again – her thoughts and feeling touching the sole(foundation) of my being.


The absolute fear of death, the absolute realization that each and every one is alone in this world – I am alone. Its like the sand in my hand – can’t grip it can’t keep it, desperately trying to hold on to it. Yet, I am aging, just like everyone else. The “I Am” is everything but eternal – a mere speck in the vastness, a mere dot in history – so frail- so little. The fear of not being, the fear of never having lived this life – is this it? Is this what life is?
I continue to read , and my heart feels, connects, painfully avoids – tears plummeting into oblivion – what is it that falls from my eyes? Fear, yearning, loss, heartache? The absolute realization of being only me, only me. Maybe the fear of “not being”. Not being eternal, being temporary, and continually searching in this temporal life for something to become whole – something to attach my heart to, just to become whole. And yet, I fear losing me, fear losing that which I haven’t got. Fear losing that “me” that I don’t even know to exist.

The tears are drying up, read a little more. Gudrun says-“why fight the wind,leaving you feeling so small and weak. Why not become part of the storm, the strength...” Am I really alive? Am I living or constantly missing life. I’ve read gudruns diary and feel she has found some life and life has found her. She wished me everything that life has to offer without having to search for it. I fight with my mind – why is it so stupid – so little insight – think dammit and get me an answer! Follow the yearnings, give them room and don’t fight them, i’m thinking. The fear of the fall, the fall from the “top of the world” feeling. How deep can a hole go? Are we really alone? My heart resists this thought, the thought that crunches und scares my heart. I have to move, experience life, know it, come to find happiness in it. Are others finding it, and i’m losing out? I don’t like losing, I want to be a winner, together with the other people who manage to win. But losing, never! – fear exists that life steals itself away from me – i have to work at it, grab at it. My heart trembles, fears, knows the truth – even with all my power, i cannot hold it, cannot trust it. Will it leave me?, abandon me? Its the sand in my hand : either it tingles through the fingers and pleasurably plays in my soul, or I grab it and desperately seek to hold it, threatening my existence. Play with me life, please play with me!! Why am I not YOU and YOU I. Why fear losing which I myself am already part of. Is that what I’m trying to hold on, not just another part of me? The fear digs deep – where does it come from!? Already I fear losing her – she might abandon me, chose another – not even my girlfriend yet and already trying to desperately hold onto her. Everything in life is like the sand. It will fall through my fingers – love, time, bodily functions, family, partner, friends – I want to hold all of you, keep you near my heart, help protect me from being alone!! And yet I inwardly know that this picture won’t work for this life. Something tells me the answer must be different. Holding and grasping at things and people to protect me and make me somebody – it will always fail. Yet, I need a replacement for this urge, i need to trust. Trust life, eternity – know somehow that that which i’m grabbing at, trying to hold on to, needs to live itself. No difference it makes – grab or not grab – the sand moves on, it does not allow itself to be held. Every grain, a life and energy of its own, having to go its own way. Maybe I need to become the sand itself – life. Falling with the rest of life, sharing the fall and feeling trust in this fall. Its not a fall into bottomless pit, its more like a flowing, yet downwards. Allowing the tingle to fill my soul, and also every pain to touch its place.
Yet, i desperately fear never to find life- I grab, and run, grab and run at anything that promises light – lots of it is blackened sand engulfed by a white shell. Sand enforced into a round ball shape, which shines white bright – yet the sand loses its life – turns black. White promises, black lies. Just a dot, not even a dot, in history, in reality. What makes me important? I experience only myself, and as such cannot feel anything but that which envolves me – i am important to me, for 6 billion others, just another body, person, seeing a reflection of themselves in me – sometimes with startling fright, sometimes with understanding stillness. Who am I, but just me. Just me.